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8
SALOME.
How little didst thou think, while tripping downTo meet Herodias, from that wild carouse,
That thou shouldst win such terrible renown,
And men should name thy name with heavy brows!
For, in the fierce light of thy mother's guilt,
Before the nations thou art dancing still
Up to the wine-cups! Holy life was spilt,
And thy fair girlhood served a murderous will:
And so thou fillest up th' historic page
With the keen Scribe and ruthless Pharisee,
And, linked with all the furies of the age,
Hast found no pitying heart to plead for thee;
For, lo! thy dancing-dress is bloody-red,
And thy young hands have borne John Baptist's head!
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